


birthday blues

by intelcore



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, and talking stuff out with Annabeth cause you both need it, author is not American and doesn’t have a connection to NYC but people who do seem to really...do, happy birthday percy here’s 4000 words of you feeling melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intelcore/pseuds/intelcore
Summary: as much as he loves new york city every other day of the year, august eighteenth is the one day he cannot bear to be in manhattan[a few thousand words about birthdays, oceans and loving your best friend enough to quote her 12 year old edgy self constantly]
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 99





	birthday blues

**Author's Note:**

> *blows a kiss towards New York City* for Percy Jackson!
> 
> oh no, he’s on the other side of the US...disappearing under the Pacific Ocean

_ If I could open my arms _

_ And span the length of the isle of Manhattan _

_ I'd bring it to where you are _

_ Making a lake of the East River and Hudson _

_ If I could open my mouth _

_ Wide enough for a marching band to march out _

_ They would make your name sing _

_ And bend through allies and bounce off all the buildings _

— Marching Bands of Manhattan, Death Cab for Cutie

* * *

They’d flipped a coin and landed on heads. 

That was the only reason they’d agreed to go to California. The only reason. That’s what Percy had told himself, told Annabeth, told Grover, told Mom and Paul. Reyna had invited Annabeth to come and take a look at Camp Jupiter’s post war disarray and provide an input on Jason’s new temple building undertaking. She’d invited Percy to come and help rebuild the Romans’ trust in the peace truce between their camps.

Annabeth and Percy had accepted, readily, too readily for two war heroes who had just returned to home sweet home. But that was  _ only _ because they’d flipped a coin and landed on heads. Percy was sure of that.

Blackjack groaned as he struggled to keep his wings extended in a glide. They were soaring high, high, high, above the far-reaching boughs of the tallest trees, above the stainless-steel-and-glass skyscrapers of Los Angeles. Blackjack wobbled from the effort and Percy finally tore his eyes away from the horizon and to his pegasus.

“Blackjack? You okay?”

_ I’m fine, boss.  _ If a stretched rubber band could use words, Percy could bet a box of donuts that it would sound like Blackjack.  _ Just—a—little—tired _ .

“Is your wing still bothering you?” Percy asked. “I  _ told _ you that you shouldn’t have come on this trip. Guido was perfectly willing to give me a hitch to New Rome.”

Blackjack neighed in affront. Percy loosely translated it into a dozen of offended swear words, in a handful of different equine dialects. Pegasus, and a bunch of others—Andalusian, and Mustang and Abyssinian and Hackney. Even Hippocampus.

_ Guido is a lazy ass _ , Blackjack whinnied. Percy has learnt very quickly that it was one of the worst insults one horse (or pegasus, in this case) could use on another.  _ I can’t believe you’d even  _ suggest _ that, boss. To my face! _

Percy raised his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’m just saying, if we have to take a break, we can take a break.”

Blackjack huffed with effort as he flapped his wings. He was still huffing when he answered.  _ I’m good, boss. Fit as a horsehead fiddle. _

Percy didn’t refute him. Blackjack’s wing had been injured badly in the battle, but he still flew well, gliding easily several hundred feet in the sky. His injury had caused him enough stress as it was; Percy didn’t want to wound Blackjack’s pride as well.

He had no qualms about wounding his own. “You know,” Percy said, stretching his back till he heard something pop. “I’m feeling a little stiff myself. What do you say we swoop down and take a little break? Porkpie and Annabeth should be wanting to make a little pit stop too.”

Blackjack’s snort reverberated in his head. Percy winced and clutched his ears.  _ Aw, boss. But if you say so! _ Blackjack’s tone was pointedly light, playfully disappointed, but Percy could hear a hint of relief as well.  _ You want to take a break  _ now _? _

“If it isn’t trouble,” Percy said diplomatically.

Blackjack did the winged horse (flying several hundred feet in the air!) approximation of a shrug.  _ Fine by me. Hold your horses! _

Blackjack let out a yelp.  _ Metaphorically! _

“Sorry,” Percy said, letting go of his mane.

Blackjack told Percy to tuck in his arms, and then with one final extension of his wings, swooped down towards Santa Monica beach, towards a small portion of the land that was blocked by enormous rocks from the eyes of the general beach-going masses. The glittering Pacific stretched out for miles in front of them, golden in the rays of the setting sun.

The sharp smell of sea hit Percy’s nose the minute Blackjack touched onto the beach. They kicked up sand as they skidded a few feet forward before coming to an abrupt halt. Percy jumped off just as Blackjack folded his wings in, wincing a little with the effort. Percy took a minute to whistle and let Porkpie (who was hopefully in the vicinity) know that they were making a rest stop at the beach.

_ You gonna take some time, boss? _

“A little while,” Percy said. He closed his eyes and breathed in the salty summer air. There were a few straggling tourists a little way off, surfing and swimming and admiring the sunset on the water. “You can relax. I’ll probably walk around. Take a swim.”

_ Let the wild horses drag you away, boss. _

Percy decided he didn’t want to know. He waved in acknowledgement and walked down to the edge of the surf. Several children were building sandcastles by the waves, parents supervising. A normal day with the surf and sun. The beach smelled...like a beach, honestly. Salty. Fishy. Oceany. 

Kind of like home. Like a home. Cabin Three. If Percy stepped into the surf, he was sure he would feel a thousand times more rejuvenated than he did now.

Santa Monica Pier looked a little different than in his memories. More high definition. More crowded. There were different attractions at the carnival that had been set up, and all the kids looked younger.

The ocean looked the same.

It was uncanny. A perfect replication. The ocean was tumultuous, restless, unrestrained. Ever-changing. Yes, it was impossible, but yes, it was true. 

It looked as beautiful and mysterious and blue, blue, blue as he remembered it being five years ago. A lifetime ago. 

Just like five years ago, just like a lifetime ago, Percy couldn’t help the small sprig of disbelief blooming in his chest. It was a couple of thousand miles to New York—to Montauk and Long Island and the stormy waters of the Atlantic, but the Pacific and Santa Monica Pier called to him in the same way they did. Two-thirds of the planet covered by seas, and there was a  _ god _ for that? His  _ father _ ?

A lifetime, and Percy still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. This whole ocean at his father’s command. All the seas of the world, their power and knowledge at Percy’s fingertips.

It was funny. He’d sailed across the Mediterranean, had felt the ancient pull of those sacred waters draw him in, draw his power out. He’d stared out at the Atlantic every summer from Long Island, from Montauk. He had felt power and longing and grief and a type of heady electricity through his veins ever time he did.

Staring at this ocean, on this side of the world just made him feel small. It made him feel twelve, and small. Sixteen, and afraid. Seventeen, against  _ all _ odds, and lost.

Lost at sea. After learning about Poseidon, he’d had a laugh at his mother’s choice of phrasing.

Not dead, lost at sea. As if his father, ruler of the seas, could be  _ lost _ in his own domain, his own power.

But now, staring out at the blue water, on the other side of sixteen, Percy couldn’t help but feel lost.

He stepped into the surf.

//

The ocean remembered him too. 

The first time Percy had sunk to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, it had been quiet and cold and all so new. He had been twelve, and so new at this, at all of this. Now at the dawn of his seventeenth year, it all felt familiar. But nothing could have prepared him for this. This time, there was an explosion of noise—not noise,  _ voices _ . 

_ The Son of Poseidon!  _ Shoals of curious fish swirled around him. Mako sharks remembered his name. Sea bass screamed in excitement as he shot past them, mackerel and perch cleared a way. Tiger shark and leopard shark clustered around him, stingrays stared as Percy sunk deep, deep, deeper into the chilling water. Freezing temperatures and crushing pressure had no effect on his body and for once in his life, Percy didn’t experience even a half-second of hesitation or doubt or the mental recalibration of breathing underwater.

He swam deeper into the darkness, waving at various startled aquatic life as they gossiped about him. He heard snatches of conversation from the brightly coloured garibaldi damselfish, from the jellyfish; _the Son of the Sea God_ , and _the wars above_ and _the_ _prophecy child_. A Giant Pacific Seahorse was bobbing away in the distance. 

As the sand back came to an end and led him to the edge of the ocean proper, a yawning chasm sprawled out under him. Something about the aching, hollow void made Percy seize up in momentarily panic; it lasted a few harsh seconds, seconds of trying to remember to breathe and trying to suppress the memory of a deep, oily voice that rose up with its ancient, slumbering, hellish body.

Oh, but this was just the ocean. If it had only always been just the ocean. Percy could feel comfort settle into his bones. Slipping into  _ this _ darkness would not be hell—just a homecoming. 

Percy half expected to see the swirling faces of Nereids rise up from the dark waters, just like he remembered from that distant, first quest. But there were no smiling reflections in the currents—just an inviting quiet, a warm blackness and a sense of belonging that called out to Percy’s blood.

A few more minutes. It couldn’t hurt. Just to sate his curiosity, to soothe his restless self. He could sink to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. He could visit his father’s kingdom, take a look at how reconstruction was coming along, explore the unexplored depths of its hadal trenches, find answers to the most sought out questions of oceanographers. He could swim along the Mariana Trench, take the long way to the Indian Ocean, just stay here and let himself float with the currents. A few more minutes.

Percy looked up. He shouldn’t have been able to see anything from the depth he was at—sunlight shouldn’t have been able to reach him at several thousands of feet underwater, but he had always been good at doing what he shouldn’t. Waning rays of light filtered into the water, illuminating the ocean for only Percy’s eyes. 

Oh, yeah. Percy blinked up towards the surface. There was also the little matter of him being the  _ Son of the Sea God. _

It was getting late. He still had to get to Camp Jupiter by tonight. Blackjack was probably getting antsy, to say nothing of Annabeth and Porkpie. He had better get on his horse.

He didn’t have the time to take the long way to the Indian Ocean, but he could take his own time to Santa Monica beach. Talk with the little fishies with the starstruck eyes.

With one final look at the dark swirling depths, Percy sighed and shot up to the ocean surface.

//

“Hey,” Annabeth said when he emerged out of the the waves. She smiled at him like they were sharing an inside joke and crossed her legs on the sand. “Had a nice swim?”

Percy grinned. He shook his head, letting drops of water fall to the ground. He had willed himself  _ not _ to stay dry; the cool water was soothing and relaxing and gods knew how many tourists would still be milling about, tourists generally experienced with the concept of  _ water gets you wet. _

“Did I keep you long?” Percy asked. The sun had dipped below the horizon, but there were still a few people stretching out on foldout chairs and blankets. 

“Nah, it was fine. Porkpie was getting tired anyway.” Annabeth patted the spot next to her. Percy obliged and sat down. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“It was cool,” Percy said. “The lionfish had a lot to say. A couple of sharks decided to give me an honour guard to the surface.”

“Nice to learn you’re a star for starfish.”

“Oh, how long have you been sitting on  _ that _ ?”

Annabeth looked beautiful when she laughed, even if it was at his expense. “Too long for it to be worth it,” she said. “But! Anyway. I have something for you.”

She reached into her bag and took out a slight smashed brown paper box. Inside, there was a single cupcake with white frosting and blue flowers.

“Happy Birthday, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth said. She kissed him. “I know we planned not to do anything today since we would be travelling the whole time...but I had to make a stop at the bakery for a cake. You can’t have a birthday without cake.”

“Without  _ blue _ cake,” Percy said, smiling at the little blue fondant flowers that dotted the icing. “You’re such a sap, Annabeth. Second time in a row.”

“Well, demigod life. Any birthday can be your last and all that jazz.” Annabeth sighed. “In terms of birthday food, it beats out the Phlegethon river fire in any case.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Percy said. He broke the cake in half and handed a piece to her. 

“Seventeen,” Annabeth mused. “I wish we had candles.”

“Would it be too sappy of  _ me _ if I said we have the stars instead?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Yes. Incredibly sappy. And completely unfactual, seeing as there are no stars up in the sky yet  _ anyway _ .” 

Percy leaned back on his hands. “Probably wouldn’t be able to see seventeen stars in the first place, with all the light pollution.”

Annabeth sighed. “Grover was telling me all about it. How California is just as bad as New York.”

“ _ Really? _ You’d think it’s not a comparison, considering New York is the “City That Never Sleeps” and everything.” Percy said.

“Never?” Annabeth asked dryly.

Percy winced. “Okay. Bad choice of wording there. Mostly.  _ Mostly _ never sleeps. If there is no annoying god of sleep involved.”

“There’s a tagline,” Annabeth said. “”City That Must Be  _ Forced _ To Sleep.”

Percy laughed, truly, really, but then cut himself off at the last second. It felt weird to crack jokes about Manhattan’s collective sleep spell; not bad exactly, not painful, but something adjacent. It opened up a door to a strange sort of longing, a strange sort of grief. The light pollution talks reminded him of dying friends on eucalyptus-scented hilltops, and saying hello to the stars. If he wasn’t careful, it would open up the door to acid burnt faces, and demolished bridges, and blown up ships, of rising smoke on tranquil waters, blood on daggers. A lot of blood.

A blue brick shaped cake shared at the lake at Camp Half Blood, watching still water and thinking about the same war and the same losses he is thinking about ever now, a full year later.

The sudden grief stretched through years, connecting California to New York, entwined by the sudden familiar hollow feeling of loss in Percy’s chest, a stronger connection than any lack of stars or stretched out blue ocean could be.

Because she was Annabeth, and because their lives were so entwined with the same triumphs and tragedies, the same scars and memories and grey strands of hair, Annabeth bumped her shoulder lightly against Percy’s. Percy knew instantly that she was thinking about the same things as him—how a year ago, on the other side of the country, the Empire State Building was lit up with blue flags, and how impossibly far away the peace that had been promised then seems. 

“You were so eager to come to New Rome this week because you didn’t want to be at camp for the anniversary, right?” Percy asked quietly.

Annabeth let out a slow, sad sigh. “Yeah.”

“Me too,” Percy admits. “I—I don’t think I could have stayed in New York. I’d have probably stayed in bed all day. Blinds drawn. If I had to drive up Williamsburg Bridge to get to camp, or caught a glimpse of the Empire State Building or Fifth Avenue...I think I disappointed Mom a bit, leaving so soon to help with the post war effort. She wanted to celebrate my birthday together.”

“Sally understands,” Annabeth said. “She always does.”

That was true. No one had yielded to the world as much as Sally Jackson, but no one had fought as much to do it on her own terms. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt at the memory of his mom’s little watery nod, her small  _ Okay. You go. I’ll make the blue cookies when you return. _

“You know,” Percy said, feeling honest in the cool sea breeze. “I missed a lot of the grieving and aftermath of the Titan War with Hera’s disappearing act. Now we have more losses, another war to recuperate from. This is never going to end is it? Not now, not next year, not the year after that.”

Strangely enough, out of all the empty words Percy had heard in his life, reach sixteen  _ against all odds _ was starting to seem the hollowest of them all. More so for how true it seemed now, when he’d had to burn so many of his friends’ shrouds.

“I don’t know,” Annabeth said. “But I do know—I do know that I don’t want to believe that. It’s been two wars in a row, but it’s also been two blue birthday cakes in a row. Candles or not, this has been very nice. I’d like to do this again.”

_ Sap _ . Percy closed his eyes and breathed deeply in the evening scent of the ocean. 

“I didn’t think you’d make it to your sixteenth birthday,” Annabeth said. “I didn’t think you’d make it  _ out _ of it. I didn’t think we’d make it out of Tartarus. But we did. That’s as much proof as the wars, isn’t it?”

“No such thing as free lunch.”

Annabeth blinked. “Huh?”

“You said that,” Percy said. “Years ago, on this beach. No gift comes without a price. We aren’t going to have these moments of peace without the threat of danger.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah.”

Annabeth squinted up at the sky. “Well, call me the frigging Oracle.”

“I’d rather not,” Percy said. He wiggled his eyebrows. “They can’t date anyone, remember?”

Annabeth blushed and socked him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”

“Hey,  _ you _ were the one who said it,” Percy said, laughing. The silent, somber atmosphere seemed to have broken, and Annabeth was trying to stifle a laugh as well. “You did threaten to kick my butt.”

“Only because you kept saying stupid stuff. You were  _ so _ obtuse.”

“Because you were so straightforward yourself?”

Annabeth considered it. “Okay, let’s just agree we  _ both _ should have used our words.”

“Deal.” Percy smiled. He guessed it didn’t really matter now—they both knew the stuff they needed to, words or not. Actions spoke louder—refusals of immortality, and guiding them out of rivers of misery, treks through hell. 

And. And they’d made it a point to say the important things, hadn’t they? You’re my friend. I love you. I know you. You’re never going to get away from me. 

They sat in silence, watching gentle lapping waves. The tourists were beginning to clear out, you could see the moon over the ocean.

“We should get back before it gets too late,” Annabeth said finally. “Get to New Rome before midnight.”

Percy nodded, scrunching up the pastry box and dropping it into his backpack for future disposal. “Yeah, let me just call Blackjack and Porkpie.”

He whistled by the rocks Blackjack had landed on, loud enough for the sound to carry through the summer air. He could hear the fluttering pegasi wings as they neared, and then Blackjack’s  _ Ready, boss? _

“Hey,” Percy said. “You guys are fine to fly to the Bay Area?”

_ Unless you want to hoof it. _

“Woah. Language!”

_ Sorry boss. You were asking for it. _

Porkpie intervened.  _ We’re feeling fine, if that’s what you’re asking, Percy. _

Percy stroked Porkpie’s mane. “You’re so nice to me, Porkpie. Want to switch riders?”

Blackjack snorted derisively.  _ Stop horsing around and get on, boss. _

“Alright, okay, I’m just kidding.” He nodded at Annabeth when she made a gesture to ask if he was done speaking with the horses. “I’d never trade another horse for you, Blackjack. Even one with a cleaner mouth.”

_ Speaking about mouths, can we make a stop at a donut shop? _

“Sure,” Percy said. “I’ll get you a box of the powdered ones you like.”

Annabeth cleared her throat. “Look, I don’t understand horse or, uh, pegasus. But if you’re talking about donuts, I got a box of that for Blackjack and Porkpie at the bakery we stopped at.”

_ Oh, she’s good, boss.  _ Blackjack muttered.  _ They say not to switch horses midstream, but I can  _ definitely  _ make an exception this time. _

“You lost your chance when you had it,” Percy said, but he held out a donut for Blackjack to gobble up all the same. He offered one to Porkpie as well and then Annabeth and him were clambering up onto their respective pegasus while Blackjack and Porkpie finished off the rest of the donuts.

Annabeth looked even more beautiful in the moonlight, if that was possible. She had her tiny owl earrings on, the gift from her father (who they would be making a visit to later this week, on the way back to Manhattan) and her grey strand looked almost silver. 

She finally looked up from adjusting herself on Porkpie and caught him staring. “Percy?”

“You said you had something to tell me,” Percy said. “On the Argo II, the day we returned from Tartarus. You said you’d tell me, once we went home.”

It was getting just dark enough to see the stars. Forget seventeen, there would probably be hundreds visible in a few hours. Percy wondered if he could look up and recognise any of the constellations Annabeth had taught him all those summers ago, laying on Long Island Beach after campfire s’mores and barbecue. Any of those stars Zoë had admired, that Bob had yearned for.

He wondered about his friends at Camp Half Blood. Nico trying to fit in, the high of yet another dramatic saving-the-day entrance not yet worn off. Whether Clarisse was thinking of Silena Beauregard right now, hacking away at some poor dummy in the arena with a single minded focus. If Will Solace had arranged for his older brothers’ favourite songs at the campfire tonight. If Katie Gardner had grown mourning lilies for the dead, both the old and the new. Jake and his siblings, mourning the death of another head counsellor in the span of a year—Beckendorf and Leo, both gone, both without a body to be found. He thought about the row of new cabins, the majority of them reaching their one year anniversary and wondered if there was any old camper from the days of an overcrowded Hermes Cabin, leaning against their door frame and remembering the losses they had suffered to get there.

The Empire State Building, unlit, forgotten. The roads of Manhattan, bustling with noise and people, but still, he was sure, echoing with the imprint of silence, the anniversary of silence.

Camp Half Blood looked too empty in August, no matter how many new recruits they got. 

And here he was, on the other side of the country in some desperate attempt to quell the bad feeling yawning inside him, and yet he felt just as empty.

Annabeth tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was nothing much,” Annabeth said. “I’ve already overshot my sap quota for today.”

“I think you have a few ounces left,” Percy said.

Annabeth smiled at him softly. Her grey eyes looked much like the moonlit sea behind her. “Okay. But I warned you.” She sighed. “You know how I told you that I’d never, ever make things easy for you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, i don’t know. But after the wars, and after you went missing…” she swallowed. “After Tartarus, and after all those times we nearly died—things are never easier than when we’re together, Percy. No matter what stupid things we say, or don’t say, or whatever monster-of-the-week is trying to kill us...It doesn’t matter. I know it’s not me. I don’t really make things easy, I know, the Tartarus thing was me forgetting to check my  _ ankle _ , but—“ she let out a watery laugh. “It could be Manhattan, and it could be fricking  _ Tartarus _ and things are  _ still _ so easy when you’re with me.”

Percy thought about what those words meant. From Annabeth, to whom things had never been easy. To Percy, whose life was a constant battering ram of unease. About them, whose journey the goddess of love herself had promised to never make easy. 

And yet. It _was_ easy wasn’t it? It was simple. Easy. A fact of life. They’d  _ made _ it easy. They had been twelve once, and smelly from a lack of showers and sharing close space with circus animals, and brand new friends and _ I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll be fighting next to you. _

Annabeth pursed her lips. “Gods, I sound so...I just don’t get it. Things are always so bad, and things always get so tangled up and complicated—but what, you still manage to make things easy? How do you _do_ that?”

Oh, but Annabeth was  _ so _ close to the mark. It was easy, but hell if it wasn’t because she had made it easy herself. They’d stood up to gods and monsters and primordials, back to back and blades blazing, but the most successful rebellion had been against the Fates itself, a quiet, steadfast collection of assurances and jokes and loyalty and a refusal to let anything come in between.  _ Of course _ it was easy. Despite all the bravado, all the  _ never gonna make this easy for you Seaweed Brain _ , Annabeth had  _ wanted _ it to be easy, and when Annabeth put her mind to something, she got it done. 

Especially with Percy by her side and on the same page. Not many battles they’d lost together, and it wasn’t like they were going to start now.

But they were running late, and Blackjack seemed to be getting impatient. There would be time to tell her all this later, the same way there would be time to mourn and grieve and miss Manhattan, home despite the losses. On a different beach, looking up at the same stars.

“It’s because you’re my friend, Wise Girl,” Percy settled on saying. “Any other stupid questions?”

It would be this moment, he decided as they soared through the sky. This moment would be what he would think of when he thought of his birthday, instead of dead friends and burning shrouds or Manhattan city lights or even blue birthday cake.

Just this single moment, framed by the stars—sea salt spray, the pale moon shining on still waters, cool breeze through his hair, and Annabeth’s startled laugh being caught by the wind.

* * *

_ I wish we could open our eyes _

_ To see in all directions at the same time _

_ Oh what a beautiful view _

_ If you were never aware of what was around you _

_ And it is true what you said _

_ That I live like a hermit in my own head _

_ But when the sun shines again _

_ I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in _

_ Sorrow drips into your heart through a pin hole _

_ Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound _

_ But while you debate half empty and half full _

_ It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> anyway,,i constantly think about percy’s seventeenth birthday, a year he never thought he’d make it to, also the first anniversary of so much of grief for him. i like to think about whether being in nyc on that particular birthday would be harder or not for him. also i just think that ocean scene in tlt is super neat and deserved some sort of encore (even though i do not know much about the ocean as is evident here. instead of writing three separate stories that don’t say much, thought i’d combine it all into one story that doesn’t say much.
> 
> thanks for reading!


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